


Three Times Tony Saves Peter (And One Time He Couldn't)

by MakeYourParadise



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Character Death, Fluff, Gen, Kind of Team Iron Man, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Feels, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sensory Overload, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-19 08:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeYourParadise/pseuds/MakeYourParadise
Summary: Tony's really good at saving Peter. Until he's not.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter didn’t need his spider senses to hear the little boy crying through all the commotion. The cloud of ash and dust greatly reduced his visibility, but he swung between the apartment buildings regardless.

 

There were lives on the line.

 

Peter didn’t mind being on Evac duty. He knew the rest of the Avengers were yet to be comfortable with a teenager taking on the big guys alongside them, so, when they could afford it, Peter’s job was to get as many civilians out of danger as possible. As long as he was helping at all, he was content.

 

Peter zeroed in on the apartment where the wailing seemed to be coming from. He silently offered apologies to the owner as he crashed through the window.

 

The boy stood in the living room, red faced with screams.

 

“Hey bud, I’m going to get you out of here,” Peter said, raising his hands out in front of him in a gesture of peace.

 

The boy looked up at Peter through his tears, his wonder overtaking his distress for a few seconds.

 

“It’s okay, you’re alright. What’s your name?” Peter questioned, trying to be reassuring as he stepped closer. He looked around, searching for a guardian who may also be trapped.

 

“C-Carter,” the boy mumbled, slightly slack-jawed.

 

“Can you tell me if there’s anyone else here, Carter?” Peter asked, picking the boy up. He couldn’t have been older than seven or eight. The boy managed to reply between sniffles.

 

“Mama went to work,” he said, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck.

 

Peter moved back toward the window, stepping over shards of glass. He grabbed a discarded shirt from the back of a sofa.

 

“Was anyone watching you?” Peter asked, concerned.

 

“Sh-she went to go to the store and then everything started…” the boy waved one of his arms around to gesture at the mess of explosions and debris outside.

 

“Alright , Carter, I’m going to get you out of here. There’s just a lot of dust outside, so I’m going to need you to close your eyes really tight, okay? And I’m going to put this over your mouth so you don’t breathe any of it in,” Peter said, laying the shirt across his shoulder.

 

“Don’t open your eyes until I say it’s okay, got it?” Peter asked, looking Carter in the eyes.

 

“Got it,” Carter nodded. Peter held Carter to his shoulder, making sure the kid’s mouth was covered. He would have to swing with one hand, so that he could keep Carter in place.

 

“Hold on tight, bud,” Peter said, giving one final check to make sure Carter’s eyes were closed before launching himself out of the window.

 

The majority of the debris was contained within a three-block radius. Peter had already evacuated many citizens outside the zone. Police officers lined the perimeter to serve as the final line of defense if anything got through.

 

Once they were out of the dust cloud, Peter let Carter raise his head. A soft “woah” escaped the boy’s lips as he witnessed what flying felt like.

 

Peter landed in front of one of the police officers, handing off the boy. With a little wave to Carter, Peter took off into the mess again.

 

“Pete, how’s evacuation—hngh—going?” Mr. Stark’s voice rang through the communication line, catching Peter off-guard. He was obviously still fighting. Peter had learned to filter out the sounds of clashing metal and gunfire that steadily streamed through his com, but it was still jarring to listen to.

 

“Good, I think most of them are out. There’s just a couple stragglers here and there,” Peter responded. Peter could see flashes of green and blue through the rusty haze of dust.

 

“You’re doing good, kid.” Captain’s voice sounded strained too.

 

“How’s it looking for you guys?” Peter asked, looking for heat signatures in the buildings close to the outskirts of the area of danger. He was fairly certain he had gotten everyone closest to the center out.

 

“These guys are stubborn, I’ll give them that,” Natasha said. Peter heard a rapid round of gunshots. “But that has yet to stop me.”

 

Peter chuckled.

 

“Keep doing what you’re doing, Pete. Shouldn’t be much longer now—,” Mr. Stark cut off, his voice being replaced by a propulsion blast.

 

Peter sighed. He didn’t know what these guys even looked like. All he’d heard through the com was _ugly sons of bitches_ and that they _had an abundance of firearms._ Peter didn’t need to hear that last one to know it. Explosions had rocked the ground consistently since the fight had begun.

 

“Karen, how many civilians are—,”

 

 

Peter couldn’t finish his sentence before the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He landed on a rooftop right as another explosion shook the world around him. This one had been _close._ Too close.

 

He watched the building that had presumably been hit began to buckle.

 

 

_So much destruction._

 

It was when screams reached his ear that he was propelled into action. There were still people in that building.

 

“Karen, how many?” Peter asked, swinging so hard he thought his shoulders might dislocate.

 

“Heat signatures indicate four civilians in the building,” Karen said.

 

Peter reached the top of the collapsing building in record time. He could see the fire that was licking up the base of the building. That, combined with the blast, had pieces of the building crumbling and swaying.

 

“How long till the building falls?” Peter asked. He was breathing hard, not from exertion, but from the thought of the tons and tons of concrete that would be falling soon.

 

“About one minute, Mr. Parker,” Karen replied.

 

There wasn’t time to hesitate.

 

Peter crashed through the window of a top floor. The abundance of chairs, tables, and laptops indicated that this had been an office of sorts. His suspicion was further confirmed when the first lady he came across was dressed in a business suit.

 

He webbed her back, not having a lot of time to explain.

 

“Use your jacket to shield your mouth and eyes,” was all he managed to get out before breaking through another window. He lowered her to the ground, making sure her feet touched before breaking off the web.

 

Peter swung back into the shaking building. He descended three more floors before coming across two men trying to open the jammed fire escape. Their panicked eyes found Peter, desperate. Peter could feel the smoke infiltrating the air, choking them. He relayed the same message that he had given to the woman before punching down the door that they had been struggling with.

 

It was a long way down. Peter knew there was no way they could make it to the bottom before the building collapsed.

 

“Can you guys climb?” Peter asked. They gave shaky nods as they covered their mouths.

 

“Karen, rope webs,” Peter said, before shooting two thick webs that momentarily hung in the air before he attached them to the fire escape railing.

 

“Hurry,” Peter said, before running back into the building to find the last person.

 

“Mr. Parker, collapse is imminent. I would suggest leaving immediately.”

 

As if to reinforce Karen’s words, the building gave a violent shudder.

 

“I can’t, Karen, there’s still one more person.”

 

The last woman was on the ground floor. Peter raced through floor after floor, trying not to think about being there when the building collapsed. As he neared his destination, the air grew thick with the acidic smoke. His eyes burned even through his mask.

 

The air grew uncomfortably hot as the fire spread. Everything seemed to blur. Fresh air seemed like a far away concept.

 

He found the woman crawling towards the doors, collapsing a little when a piece of burning debris fell in front of her.

 

“Karen, I have fire retardant webs, right?”

 

The soft click of the web type being changed answered his question. He shot webs at the chunk of concrete blocking the exit, putting out the fire. The woman turned to find the source of the webs.

 

“Go, go!” Peter said, trying to keep the flames out.

 

Peter barely had time to react to the familiar tingle in his neck before he turned to catch the ceiling that was about to collapse on both of them.

 

Luckily, the woman redoubled her efforts to crawl towards the door. Peter could feel his muscles strain against the weight. He’d been here before. He pushed away the images of being trapped, of feeling his body being crushed.

 

_C’mon Spiderman._

Peter had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to be so lucky this time.

 

He turned his head in time to see the two men he had helped earlier pull the woman to safety. A sigh of relief flooded him.

 

It would just be him, then.

  
He could see one of the guys try to come back in, to help him.

 

“No, don’t worry, go—,” Peter managed, before breaking into a coughing fit.

 

They hesitated, casting a sad glance at the boy trying to lift the world, before moving away. Towards safety.

 

_They’re safe. It’s okay._

 

The most excruciating part was probably the smoke. While the weight was grueling, the smoke filled his lungs, making him weak. He could feel himself getting crushed and burning all at once. His vision swam.

 

_You can let go. No one but you will get hurt._

Peter wanted to. He wanted so badly to give in to the darkness, to let his muscles relax. Peter eyes closed. He could feel his knees buckling…

 

“Peter? I think it’s over, buddy. Where are you?”

 

Mr. Stark’s voice had Peter’s eyes snapping open again.

 

He tried to get his smog filled brain to put the pieces together.

 

They were gone? The fight was over?

 

“Peter?”

 

The heat was so intense. It felt like there were flames at the back of his neck.

 

Peter barely processed the pain of his knees hitting the ground. Everything seemed to be moving very slow. His arms were still giving a valiant effort to keep all the debris off of himself.

 

_Tons of concrete_

_Caging my body_

_Can’t breathe_

_Can’t think_

“Peter!”

 

Peter tried to open his mouth to reply, but his words failed him.

 

_I’m here_

_I saved them, Mr. Stark_

_It’s okay, I saved them_

 

“FRIDAY, is Peter alright?”

 

_Why is Mr. Stark asking if I’m alright?_

_I’m right here!_

Peter didn’t want to feel the burn in his arms anymore.

 

What if he let go?

 

“Scans indicate he’s physically compromised from smoke inhalation.”

 

“Smoke inhalation? Where is he?”

 

The words blurred as Peter could feel himself sinking lower from the weight of…whatever.

 

Where was he?

 

His lungs hurt. Had he been screaming?

 

_Oh God, please tell me I wasn’t screaming like a kid and all the Avengers heard me_

 

“I’m coming Peter, hang tight. C’mon, buddy,” Mr. Stark’s voice sounded distant. But it caused something inside of him to click.

 

_C’mon, Spiderman_

“C’mon, Spiderman,” Peter repeated, barely louder than a whisper. His throat felt like it was bleeding.

 

His eyes opened ( _when had they closed again?)_ to the sight of concrete inches away from his face. He was on his knees, leaning dangerously far back. The gloves on his hands were torn, and he could see his hands were bone-white from the exertion.

 

“ _C’mon, Spiderman,”_ he said again, louder. He pushed. Every muscle in his body groaned. The concrete barely shifted an inch, but it was enough for Peter to not feel trapped. He knew it was a temporary surge, though.

 

He was burning. He was drenched in sweat and every inch of him was on fire. But he just had to hold it a little longer. Until Mr. Stark could get there.

 

The blackness returned to the edges of his vision, looming. He grit his teeth, but he could feel his limbs giving out. They had been pushed too far; it was too much.

 

_Mr. Stark_

 

Peter fell to the ground, his eyes closed.

 

He heard the crash of what he assumed to be the building’s triumphant laugh, ready to bury the boy.

 

Except the weight never crushed him.

 

_Am I dead?_

He heard a distant clang of metal, but still, nothing touched his body.

 

A soft blue glow seemed to seep under his eyelids.

 

_Oh my God, I’m dead_

 

“Peter? Come on, kid, come back to me.” The voice was sturdy, but cracking on the edges.

 

_Mr. Stark?_

Peter forced his eyes open, pushing past his exhaustion.

 

Mr. Stark was kneeling over him. Peter’s eyes could barely muster the strength to register the red and gold of the suit. The arc reactor shined heavily into his eyes.

 

“Oh, kid,” Mr. Stark said, relieved. His voice seemed disconnected from his body. So far away. Everything around him moved in blurs.

 

It took Peter a couple seconds to realize that he hadn’t moved. He was still where the building had been collapsing, except…the building wasn’t there anymore. Or, it was, it was just around them.

 

Mr. Stark had shielded Peter’s body with his own.

 

“C’mon, bud. Let’s get you out of here,” Mr. Stark said, his eyes gleaming. If anyone asked about it, he would dismiss it as the smoke in the air.

 

But Peter knew better.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Sir, Peter Parker seems to be in a state of distress.”

 

Cool blue light infiltrated his vision even behind closed eyelids. Groggily, Tony cracked his eyes open. He was still half asleep, unable to process the words that were being spoken to him.

 

“Sir?”

 

As Tony’s brain finally registered FRIDAY’s information, his eyes flew open. His head snapped up from the table he didn’t really remember falling asleep on. The twinge in his neck from the uncomfortable position was overridden by his sudden alertness.

 

“Where is he? What happened?”

 

Tony pulled himself to his feet, barely sparing a glance as whatever contraption he was working on last night fell to the ground. He began the process of engaging his suit.

 

“Mr. Parker appears to have an elevated heart rate and is emotionally compromised. He is standing on the roof of Stark Towers, sir.”

 

Tony’s heart jolted, and he froze in his tracks. Even FRIDAY had said the second sentence as if it were a secret.

 

Peter was here, on top of one of the tallest buildings in New York. A fall that even his enhanced abilities couldn’t save him from.

 

Tony’s stomach churned at the thought. His shock kept him in place for a second more before instinct had him racing for the elevators, the suit forgotten.

 

He tried to ignore the images that were trying to work their way into his brain.

 

_Peter, tears rolling down his face, leaning dangerously over the edge of the building._

_The tension in his features relaxing as he came to a decision._

_His eyes closing._

The elevator wasn’t moving fast enough.

 

_His arms stretching out, offering himself to the world_

Tony was out the elevator doors before they even finished opening. He sprinted up the staircase that led to the roof door.

 

_His feet left the ground_

_He didn’t seem to fall, rather, the night seemed to swallow him whole_

The door slammed open. Tony didn’t register the chill of the night that his meager tank top couldn’t save him from.

 

His eyes scanned across the rooftop for the small brunet teenager, his heart pounding louder for each second that passed without spotting him.

 

Peter’s white shoes were what gave away his location through the thick night. He sat submerged in a shadowy corner of the rooftop.

 

Tony felt his chest loosen when he took in that he was sitting a couple feet from the ledge, staring out across the city. The image of Peter he had conjured up fell from his mind, stored for nightmare fuel later.

 

Peter didn’t acknowledge Tony; though there was no way he didn’t know he was there. Even without enhanced hearing, he would’ve been able to hear the door open from a mile away.

 

Since Peter didn’t seem to appear to be in immediate danger, Tony advanced cautiously. He didn’t really know what to say or do, he just knew Peter needed someone right now.

 

He could be someone.

 

As he neared, he saw Peter shift, pulling his knees into his chest. He looked so small. Tony wanted to wrap him in a hug.

 

“Quite a view, huh, kid?”

 

Peter didn’t lift his head, but his soft reply was carried to Tony through the still night.

 

“Hi, Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony lowered himself to the ground next to Peter, leaving a comfortable amount of distance. They both peered across the city lights for a couple minutes in silence, basking in each other’s presence.

 

Tony knew that the silence couldn’t go on forever, though.

 

“Anything you want to talk about?”

 

His words seemed to be absorbed into the night sky. It was touching, in a way. What he said would only be available to Peter.

 

When Peter didn’t respond, Tony looked over at him. The distant city lights provided some illumination so that he could actually see Peter’s face for the first time that night.

 

It struck Tony that Peter looked incredibly pale, as if he was made of bone. The arms that wrapped around his legs clutched each other tightly, as if he would fall apart if he let go. Peter was staring at his own knees, clenching and unclenching his jaw in rapid succession.

 

“Hey, buddy. You look a little pale, are you feeling alright?” Tony’s voice was soft, warming the chilly night.

 

Peter blinked once, twice, before responding.

 

“It’s been a year,” he said, so quiet that Tony had to strain his ears. Tony had never seen the kid so serious. It made him look older in a way that was all wrong. Peter was, a beacon of light-heartedness in a world where nothing seemed right. So to see his features droop with a dark weight made Tony long to comfort him.

 

“A year?” Tony asked, already having guessed the anniversary he was referring to.

 

“Since Uncle Ben died.”

 

His voice cracked on the last word; it was obvious how much it pained the boy. Peter buried his head in his knees, shielding his face from the world, from Tony.

 

Tony’s eyes closed for a second, and he found himself angry. Angry at the world for dealing Peter such a shitty hand in life. Angry that such an amazing kid went through more hardship in 16 years than some people faced their whole lives. He was angry that he couldn’t make it better, could never fix that hole in Peter’s life.

 

Tony might not have had a father figure that didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth. But he would be damned if he made Peter face the fate of growing up without one. Sure, once upon a time Tony would vehemently oppose having the opportunity to be in a kid’s life. As far as he was concerned, any effort to be a father would end with another Howard Stark, and Tony didn’t want to walk down that road.

  
But once upon a time, Tony didn’t know Peter. He didn’t know what it felt like to want to change the world for one person. He didn’t know what it felt like to want to be more than the example that had been set for him. Tony might always be found lacking compared to Howard Stark, the inventor. But he _knew_ he could outdo Howard Stark, the father.

 

There was someone that made the effort worth it.

 

Tony opened his eyes, and immediately pulled Peter into his arms. It felt like the natural thing to do. To show Peter that, no matter the hardship, he would be here with him through it all.

 

Peter tensed at first, but the warmth of the embrace had him release himself from the ball he had rolled into. He buried his face in Tony’s chest, allowing the sobs he had been holding back for far too long to come out.

 

Tony could hear what Howard would say.

 

_Stark men don’t cry, Anthony._

_You can’t be weak._

 

_Fuck off,_ Tony thought vehemently.

 

Peter was the strongest kid he knew, crying or not.

 

Tony found himself talking, trying to soothe, Peter.

 

“I’m sorry, kid. I know it’s hard, and I can’t lie to you and say it’s going to be okay. But you’re so strong, Peter, I know you can do this.”

 

Tony continued to hold and comfort Peter even when the sobs subsided. His whispers faded into the night, but they managed to make a home in Peter’s heart.

 

 

An hour later, Tony had managed to coax Peter into going inside. The boy hadn’t even become aware that he’d started shivering in the cold.

 

Peter sat on a bench in the lab, with a mug of warm milk, coddled in a blanket. He watched Tony tinker with his creations.

 

Every now and then, Tony glanced at him. Around the 10th time, his brow furrowed.

 

“Are you still cold, Pete? You’re still really pale,” he questioned, moving to grab another blanket.

 

“No, no, I don’t need another one, I’m okay, really,” Peter said. He felt like he was about to start sweating.

 

Tony stopped, trying to judge whether Peter was being honest or trying not to feel like a bother.

 

“I don’t mind making it warm—,” Tony began.

 

“I promise I’m not cold, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, with a slight smile, “I think I just look sick from something else.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

 

Peter hesitated, looking down at his mug. He didn’t know if he should tell Mr. Stark. He hadn’t even told Aunt May yet. But when he looked back up at Tony, he found no pressure or judgment looking back at him, just a calm concern.

 

“I…Sometimes when I remember that night, or Uncle Ben, I get really…I don’t know, sensitive? I—I feel like I’m still there sometimes, I can hear and feel…everything,” Peter paused, trying not to remember the way the blood had coated his hands and the sharp iron smell of it. “And even when I stop remembering, everything around me is just like…turned up to 11. Noises are too loud and…and colors are too bright. It _hurts._ ”

 

“Sensory overload?” Tony asked, cocking his head. He didn’t like that flashbacks that made his heart ache and kept him up at night was something that Peter also experienced to a worse extent.

 

“I—I think so. It happened to me earlier today. It’s just…really draining. That’s why I ended up on the roof. It was nice to be far away from everything after it felt like there was a jackhammer in my brain.” Peter gave a small chuckle at his own analogy.

 

“Strong emotional triggers probably heighten your senses more than they’re already heightened by. It’s probably too much input for your brain to handle,” Tony pondered, out loud.

 

“You’re tellin’ me,” Peter joked, taking a long drink from his mug. Tony returned his smile before a thought dawned on him.

 

He broke into a brisk walk, disappearing into one of the storage closets before backtracking and ducking into another one.

 

Peter watched him dart around the room, his curiosity piqued.

 

A triumphant shout had Peter raising an eyebrow. Tony emerged from the fourth closet he had tried with a proud smirk on his face. He held two gadgets in his hands.

 

Tony held the first one out to him, and it was pretty obvious what they were.

 

“Headphones?” Peter asked, taking them in his hands. Tony shrugged.

 

“Noise-cancelling. Might be useful,” he said.

 

Peter genuinely grinned for the first time that day. Just the thought of not having to listen to the grueling outside world during one of his episodes had him massively relieved.

 

“Mr. Stark, I—,”

 

Peter’s thanks was prematurely cut off.

 

“Ah, not yet. You haven’t seen the main event.”

 

Tony held up a small gadget. It was silver with red accents. It didn’t look like much more than a handle with a button.

 

“What…what is it?” Peter asked, trying to be enthusiastic.

 

“It’s just something I was messing around with a couple years ago. It’s supposed to be like a 360 degree hologram projector kind of thing,” Tony said. He pushed the button on the small controller. A holographic menu popped up, with many different images to choose from. Tony picked one, and their surroundings morphed into a night sky sprinkled with greenish-white stars.

 

“Woah,” Peter breathed, his eyes wide. “Mr. Stark, that’s so cool!”

 

Peter peered around, trying to find any fault in the illusion, but it looked so real.

 

“I think it might be helpful for you if you could do something like…” Tony trailed off, opening the menu and picking a black image. The room around them was plunged into nothing but a black canvas.

 

“This way, you wouldn’t have to look at any colors,” Tony explained, trailing off as Peter looked around in awe again. Before he could explain further, a small body hurtled into him, hugging him tightly.

 

Tony took a moment or two to steady himself before returning the embrace.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter breathed against his chest.

 

“Anytime, kid. You know I love whipping up gadgets,” Tony replied, a warmth filling his chest.

 

“I didn’t mean the gadgets, Mr. Stark. I meant all of it. Thank you for looking out for me. I can’t talk about some of this stuff to Aunt May because it’s painful for her too, y’know? I…I—,” Peter struggled, unsure how to say what he wanted to say.

 

Tony smiled, wrapping his arms tighter.

 

“I know, kid. Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to cope with Peter getting dusted in Infinity War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Spoilers for Avengers Endgame!*  
> Also this chapter is pretty long; I almost considered posting it as it's own work. Let me know what you think!

Tony stared at his hand, waiting.

Pleading.

He had to. _He had to._

Each second that ticked by felt like an anvil dropping on his chest. It wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to be dusted.

A sudden wave of nausea had him keeled over, on his hands and knees.

 

Tony tried to pretend that he couldn’t feel particles on his hands, as if the remnant warmth of Peter’s body wasn’t permanently burned into his arms.

_Jesus._

_He was just a kid._

They had lost. Defeat had never felt so tangible before.

There had always been a way out, a shortcut. A way to come out on top even when it seemed impossible.

But not this time.

_My fault my fault my fault_

He could’ve done more. He should’ve done more.

He shouldn’t have dragged Peter into any of this.

He…he should’ve taken more precautions. He had known, hadn’t he? He had always known that what had happened in New York had just been the beginning.

The threats they had faced was a sample of what was to come. And he hadn’t prepared.

His mind had been warning him for _years._ Nightmares. Anxiety. The desperate need to be in the workshop, to keep building, to improve.

 

Tony had failed the people who had relied on him, again.

 

Image after image flooded his mind.

Pepper ( _oh god, Pepper. Is she alive?)_ falling into flames as he desperately reached toward her.

Rhodey falling out of the sky, his suit, the suit _Tony_ built for him, pulling him towards the ground.

Steve and Bucky taking turns bashing his suit in.

Thanos disappearing, with the gauntlet.

Peter.

Oh god, Peter.

 

His hands had reached for him so desperately.

He had turned to Tony for help, and Tony couldn’t do _anything._

_Just a kid. Just a kid that wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for me._

Tony buried his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do now?

A hand landed on his shoulder, hesitant.

Tony turned to see the blue chick who had crash landed on the planet not long after their arrival.

Tony tried to muster up some joke or sarcastic comment. All he managed to do was stare instead.

She returned his gaze evenly, and though her eyes were pitch black, and honestly kind of freaky, there was a comfort there. A silent agreement that no words could be said that could capture what had just happened to them. A shared pain.

They sat together for a while, hoping that another presence would ease their grief.

Spoiler alert: It didn’t.

 

She didn’t probe, and neither did Tony.

Eventually, they did talk. About her ship. About what to do. But neither of them brought up the people they had just lost, and they were both (in the loosest meaning of the word) content that way.

It hadn’t taken long for them to realize that there was no guarantee about anything. Whether they stayed on that planet or left, dying was more than probable.

Though unsaid, they both seemed to agree that staying wasn’t an option.

They had to try. That’s what they always did. Try.

And if it didn’t work? Oh well, they had already failed.

 

So Tony did what he did best. He fixed.

He couldn’t save the universe, or the people that mattered to him. He might as well save what he can.

A ship. He could do that. He could understand tools and mechanics.

As long as he could work on this, he could block out the pit in his stomach. The non-stop nightmares playing in his head so violently when he was awake, that he didn’t let himself sleep in fear of what would happen.

He passed out from fatigue a couple times, but that was fine. Being unconscious didn’t allow his brain to replay Peter dying over and over in his arms. It freed him from imagining Pepper fading into nothing. It saved him from seeing that _damn_ vision over and over again, with Steve’s broken “You could have saved us.”

It took a week. At least, a week on this planet. Tony wasn’t sure how long these days were compared to Earth ones.

Nebula had looked for food, water, and resources. While she had come back with a sizable amount of each, they both knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Dying while looking at the stars didn’t sound like the most terrible way to go.

 

Being in the ship wasn’t awful. Not at the beginning. There was some pretty good music. No Led Zepplin, which was a tragedy.

Tony liked this Nebula chick. She reminded him of Thor, just more homicidal. She had the same clueless naivety after digging past a threatening exterior.

They were both very aware that they would probably die out here, and somehow, that made it easier. There was no stress to survive because there was no guarantee there was anyone to survive for.

So they played games. They jammed to music. Well, Tony jammed. Nebula just stoically stared at him in judgement. He even made her smile a couple of times, which Tony considered his greatest achievements.

They tried not to notice the depleting oxygen meter and Tony’s quickly deteriorating physical state. Well, his mental state too, but that had been on a decline for a while.

They talked. Tony heard about Gamora and Nebula’s rocky relationship with her. He listened to her talk about Thanos, which, jeez, Tony had thought Howard had been cruel.

“I’ve never really gotten to tell anyone any of this,” Nebula had said.

“Don’t worry, what happens in space stays in space,” Tony had replied.

 

Tony talked too. Nebula was a surprisingly good listener. He talked about Pepper a lot. About Peter. Rhodey. Happy. His little family that he had found that had been so good to him but he had screwed over so many times.

“I don’t even know if they’re alive,” Tony had whispered one night, his eyes watering unexpectedly.

“You leave them messages,” Nebula replied, cocking her head toward the Iron Man helmet.

“I don’t know if they’re ever going to get them.” Tony said.

“I think…if you’re recording them, then there’s a reason. Whether you know it or not.”

Tony didn’t have anything to say to that.

 

 

~~~

The last week on the ship was the hardest. He tried not to show Nebula how affected he was becoming by the lack of oxygen and food and water. He covered up his bony body with blankets. He masked the lightheadedness by sleeping (which brought on hellish nightmares but everything had a price).

He tried not to show that his messages to Pepper were sounding more and more like goodbyes.

He waited until Nebula was on the furthest corner of the ship when he left messages for Peter because they had started sounding like “see you soon”.

At some point, even talking took too much energy. He stopped leaving messages.

 

Nebula pretended not to notice that Tony’s heartbeat was slowing down.

He had begun to randomly pass out, and each time, she covered him with another blanket.

He was shrunken. A skeleton of the man she had been left with on Titan.

Nebula knew that if she somehow survived, Thanos would pay for Tony as much as he was going to pay for Gamora.

 

Tony resorted to watching footage on the Iron Man mask. He watched little videos of Pepper he had compiled. He indulged in looking at the files saved on the Baby Monitor Protocol from Peter’s suit. He touched on some ones with Natasha and Bruce. Even some of Steve.

 

Tony always thought he would be terrified of dying. And perhaps that was true when he had had a happy ending in reach. Settling down with Pepper. Having a home. An actual home, not a tower. Maybe even having Peter stop by from time to time.

But it all seemed so far away now. So implausible.

Dying didn’t seem as hard when he didn’t have much of a life to look forward to.

 

Tony was confident it was a hallucination. His mind must finally be entering the struggle of having no oxygen.

Because there’s no way that a glowing, flying woman was currently pushing their ship through space.

Except that Nebula was beside him now, offering him a little smile. Wow, he didn’t even have to work for that one.

“You’re going home, Tony,” she said.

What if Pepper wasn’t alive? There was no home without Pepper.

“…Pep,” Tony managed, but Nebula understood.

“She’s alive. She told me,” Nebula said, gesturing to the unknown woman, who was proving herself to be a force to be reckoned with.

And for the first time since feeling Peter vanish under his arms, Tony has…something. A little glimmer of warmth.

Pepper was alive. She was waiting for him.

 

 

Tony did not expect Steve’s arms to be the first ones he fell into.

But here he was, staring into those (not so) innocent blue eyes after stumbling off the ship. Steve was here, supporting him, looking somewhat happy to see him. Huh.

For a second, it didn’t matter that it was Steve. It didn’t matter that the man that he was clinging to right now had hurt him so, so bad.

He just needed to say what had been weighing on him for so long, to someone who would understand the context.

“I couldn’t stop him,” Tony said. Steve’s eyebrows softened, in that completely familiar way. He knew. He understood that Tony can’t cope with losing.

“Neither could I,” Steve said, trying to placate, but Tony wasn’t done.

“I lost the kid.” He wanted to cry all of a sudden. He choked it back, looking at Steve for…he didn’t even know. Acknowledgement? Comfort?

Steve’s face fell. Did he know how much Peter had meant to Tony? Or did he think Peter’s death was a casualty of Tony Stark’s existence?

“Tony…we lost.” Steve said.

And for some reason, that made Tony angry. There was no _we._ It wasn’t Tony _and_ Steve. It was _Tony_ and _Steve._ Separate. They weren’t a team; they hadn’t been a team.

Steve hadn’t been there with him.

Possibly the biggest threat of the universe had stepped right into their domain and…and they hadn’t even been together. They couldn’t do what they were supposed to do and defend as a _team._

Steve had been with…who he had chosen to be with. Some distant part of Tony’s mind registered that Bucky wasn’t here, which could only mean…

They had both lost. But they hadn’t lost together.

As quickly as the anger came, it left him in a tired sigh. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Steve’s…righteous attitude. He didn’t want to deal with the constant push and pull that was their relationship. All he wanted was…

“Is um…”

Before he could even ask, he heard her.

“Oh my god.”

Tony could melt at the sound of her voice. He turned to her, his arms already outstretched, and there she was. In his arms. His Pepper.

He decided, right then, that he couldn’t do this anymore. Being away from who he cared about most. He knew, this was his last chance at something resembling a “happily ever after”. He needed to protect her. And if that meant putting Iron Man aside for a bit, then so be it.

She was all he really had left.

“It’s okay,” Tony said, more of a promise than anything else.

 

~~~

Tony had barely been back on Earth for a couple hours before the team was talking “strategy”.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if here was anything they could do now. They couldn’t take out Thanos with two fully fledged teams. How were they supposed to do anything with the bits and pieces that were left behind?

Tony had asked a couple questions, but now he sat in silence, tuning everyone out. He was staring at the screen that was flashing missing people as he absently fiddled with the IV in his arm.

Vision, Wanda, T’Challa.

Peter.

Tony felt his heart lurch and he looked away.

“Tony, you fought him,” Steve said. Something about needing intel on Thanos.

Tony had to fight the urge to scoff. Suddenly his earlier vehemence returned with a vengeance.

 He hated that Steve had to make that distinction. _You_ fought him. As if they shouldn’t have been there together. As if Steve had any right to say _you_ fought him instead of _we_ fought him without a trace of remorse.

The years fell away in an instant. The months he had spent stewing after Siberia, the growing he had done. The time that had allowed his hatred for Steve to fade into a dull disconnect, it all stripped away in the face of his anger.

“Who told you that?” Tony said. He relished in Steve looking slightly taken aback. “I didn’t fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the store.”

He tried to ignore the unexpected ache at remembering Doctor Strange. He hadn’t known him that long, but still, he had bargained for Tony’s life, after saying he wouldn’t.

_It was the only way._

Thanos had won. To Tony, there was nothing that could be done now.

“That’s what happened. There was no fight.” Tony finished. He wanted it to end there. He wanted to be with Pepper, not entertain the ridiculous notion that they could win now.

But Steve pushed. As always.

“Did he give you any clues, any coordinates?”

Tony couldn’t hold he scoff back this time.

“Pfft!”

His brain was assaulted by the sudden image of Steve again, bloody and on the ground, saying Tony could’ve—should’ve—done more.

“I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision.”

His friends’ bodies, all piled together. It had happened.

And while it hadn’t happened to everybody, it had happened to enough. More than enough.

_Oh, Peter._

He should’ve heeded the warning.

“I didn’t want to believe it. Thought I was dreaming.”

Tony tried to ignore the worried glances being thrown around the room. He was tired of being overlooked.

“Tony, I’m going to need you to focus.”

On what? Tony wanted to scream. On the fact that half the universe was effectively dead because of them? On the reality that they hadn’t been able to do their job as protectors of the Earth? On how he _knew_ this was going to happen, that he _told_ Steve?

“And I needed you.” The admittance should’ve felt embarrassing to Tony. But it was just a sad, tired truth. “As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It’s too late buddy. Sorry.”

Steve looked…god, like a kicked puppy. Tony knew that his whole schtick was being there when people needed him. But Tony was so done with treating Steve like America’s little angel. He was done with all of this.

“You know what I need?” Tony said, pushing his hands onto the table, a little more aggressively than he’d intended. Some of the utensils clattered on the tables, but Tony harbored secret satisfaction over seeing his years of unrest manifested.

“I need to shave,” Tony continued, ripping his IV out. “And I remember telling _you_ , Cap.”

Tony stalked over to where Steve was standing, barely registering Rhodey’s attempts to stop him, to get him to sit down.

“Otherwise what we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that?” Tony couldn’t stop. It was strangely exhilarating. All the pent up frustration he had felt at himself, at Steve, it was here. And he wasn’t backing down. “Whether it impacted our ‘precious freedom’ or not. That’s what we _needed!”_

Tony was shaking. A million things were racing through his head.

_I’m sorry, Tony. It was the only way._

_Mr. Stark? I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening._

_We’re in the endgame now._

_I was really hoping to pull off one last one._

“Well, that didn’t work out, did it?” Steve replied, gently.

He could’ve shouted it for all the difference it made.

_He’s my friend._

_So was I._

“I said, ‘we’ll lose’. You said, ‘we’ll do that together too’. And guess what, _Cap?_ We lost. _You_ weren’t there.”

There it was, out in the open.

“But that’s what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We’re the Avengers, we’re the A-vengers. Not the _pre_ vengers, right?”

_I couldn’t stop him._

_I couldn’t protect them._

Tony was getting a killer headache.

He felt Rhodey’s hands on him, but he seemed a million miles away.

“You made your point. Just sit down, okay?”

Rhodey’s distant words hardly made a scratch on the mountain of anguish that Tony had been building for so long. He had to say it. He had to get it out.

He could see the new girl—Carol?—out of the corner of his eye. And he suddenly felt overwhelmingly grateful, that there was someone here outside of this circle of pain and unkept promises. Outside this broken team full of broken people.

“Nah, nah, nah,” Tony said, pushing feebly against Rhodey’s attempts to restrain him. “Here’s my point.”

Tony nods to Carol. “She’s great, by the way. We need you. You’re new blood.”

Rhodey’s raising his voice now, but Tony was determined.

“Bunch of tired old mills! I got nothing for you, Cap,” Tony basically spat, getting up in Steve’s face. “I got no coordinates, no clues, no plan, no options. Zero. Zip Nada. No trust. _Liar.”_

Tony really didn’t know if he was talking about himself or Steve. But Steve looked hurt. And that somehow made Tony feel better and worse.

God, Tony wanted to be home. He desperately wished he could turn back the clock. Maybe to even before all the Iron Man nonsense.

_And if you died?_

Steve was still looking at him, all hurt and confusion and concern that he didn’t deserve.

_I feel like that’s on me._

Tony was tired.

_I don’t feel so good, Mr. Stark_

He reached for his chest, momentarily distracted by how tiny and bony he was now. He clasped the edges of his arc reactor and ripped it out, and pushed it into Steve’s hand.

“Here, take this. You find him, and you put that on. You hide.”

Tony momentarily stared at the broken reactor in Steve’s hand. It hadn’t done him a lot of good anyways.

_I don’t want to go. Please, I don’t want to go._

Tony’s tunneled sickeningly, and then faded all together. He felt his body hit the ground.

 

 

 

 

~~~

The world was different.

And, while it was awful, Tony refused to believe that it was anything but the—what, second, third?---chance the universe was giving him.

He had Pepper.

And while he had lost people, while everyone had lost people, this was it. This is what they had to work with. And Tony would be damned if he let the people he loved go again.

Thanos was dead, the stones were gone.

While this erased any chance of bringing everyone back…

_Of bringing Peter back_

It also meant that there was no imminent threat on them.

They were safe. Tony hadn’t experienced that peace of mind in a long time.

So he let himself grieve. He let himself relax.

Pepper seemed more than thrilled to settle down in a house. Sometimes, when she thought he wouldn’t notice, he saw her staring at him in concern. She couldn’t really believe that he wasn’t desperately trying to fix everything. She feared he was a ticking time bomb.

And sure, Tony made sure the new house had a workshop. And yes, he had built new suits. One for Pepper, too. But they stayed in the garage.

Tony had always believed he was Iron Man. But, he knew better now. The snap may not have killed Tony Stark, but it pretty much killed Iron Man. Tony had little desire to get in a suit anytime soon.

He wasn’t in a hurry to get away from _this_. A home life. Pepper, with him.

 

Pepper knew differently. Tony was content, yes. But at ease? No.

He still woke up in the middle of the night. He still had the restless twitch his hands got when he needed to build in order to forget.

Pepper had accepted that Tony _was_ Iron Man.

They were one and the same, one couldn’t quite exist without the other.

But losing people, losing Peter especially, had hurt him. Made him want to shun the part of himself that had gotten him involved in all of it.

Pepper made sure there was a picture of Peter in the kitchen.

All Pepper could do was be there with him while he healed.

 

Tony and Pepper got married not long after he returned to Earth.

They were both acutely aware of how uncertain life could be. They didn’t want to beat around the bush anymore.

They had a small ceremony.

Tony wished Peter could’ve been there.

 

~~~

Tony didn’t talk to Steve much, anymore. Even rarer did he reach out himself.

But nonetheless, he did one day.

A very confused and on edge Steve answered the phone one morning.

“Tony? Is everything alright?”

Steve automatically started in the direction of his uniform, a couple months out of use.

“I…um…I…”

Steve froze. Tony was rarely at a loss for words.

Something was seriously wrong.

“Tony?”

“I…I’m going to be a father, Steve,” Tony said, his voice not much higher than a whisper.

Steve blinked a couple times before a wide smile swept across his face.

“Pepper’s pregnant.”

 

 

~~~

Saying Tony was scared to be a father was a severe understatement.

He was so very aware of all the possible ways he could screw up. Of all the ways he could be an inadequate father for her (a baby girl! His baby girl!).

Pepper constantly reassured him, which just seemed grossly unfair. He should be reassuring her. God, she was 7 months pregnant, and here she was, being twice the person he would ever be.

But some part of him was _so_ ready to have a kid. He was having trouble believing it was real. Him and Pepper, creating a life. A little baby girl.

Tony stared in wonder at Pepper’s bump. She would be perfect, of course. As perfect as her mother.

He remembered the dream he had had, before all of this, of Pepper being pregnant.

Sure, he had thought they would’ve had a boy, but it honestly didn’t matter to him. He was going to be a dad either way.

He resolved that he wouldn’t be like Howard.

This kid was going to know how much he loved her.

Like always, every so often, he’d wish Peter could be here to see this. He would probably be excited, and a little freaked out.

_Mr. Stark, there’s going to be a baby Stark!_

Tony got a little smile on his face thinking about it.

It still hurt like hell. But it helped that he wasn’t alone. Everyone was grieving about somebody, and it made Tony feel less insecure about his loss. It had happened, he was allowed to feel pain. And while moving on didn’t seem possible right now, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t getting better at dealing with it.

Pepper helped a lot, of course. She’d listen to him talk about it. She was there through his, less frequent, nightmares.

Still, Tony wishes Peter could’ve been in his daughter’s life.

 

 

 

~~~

Tony vaguely remembers his mother saying he needed to meet a woman that would put him in check.

It turns out, that woman was Morgan Stark.

She was perfect, just as Tony knew she’d be.

She looked like him, and Tony was surprised that he liked that. Pepper was there, too, of course. She had a high forehead and a pointy nose, like her mom. But the eyes were all Tony.

And Tony was overjoyed that finally, _finally_ he had contributed to making something absolutely perfect. She was an angel. A fussy, loud angel, but an angel nonetheless.

Tony adored her. He was with her almost ever minute, awake or asleep. He cuddled her, he bounced her he burped her, he changed her diaper.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Morgan had a sneaky smile, like she knew she had her dad wrapped around her tiny fingers.

Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

Morgan managed to have that affect on everyone she met.

Rhodey hardly stood a chance, especially not when Tony asked him to be the godfather.

Natasha and Steve had each stopped by at some point. Clint, Bruce and Thor were somewhat MIA.

Natasha was unexpectedly soft. She had cooed at Morgan, and Tony began to wonder if she had ever wanted to be a mother.

Natasha had smiled at him.

“It’s good to see you like this.” She had said.

Tony wished he could say the same for her. Natasha was pretty much the only one actively trying to keep a handle on missing people or a peep from anywhere. And it showed. Dark circles had manifested under her eyes. Her once impeccable hair was unkept, and stress was in every line of her face.

He felt a little guilty, not helping. But, he knew that was a dangerous rabbit hole, and he had only just gotten the life he had been trying so long to have.

 

When Steve came, he hadn’t given much warning. Tony had opened the door with Morgan in his arms.

Steve could hardly say hello, he was smitten so fast.

Tony let him hold her.

It was strange, seeing Steve holding a baby. He still looked young, frozen at the age he had gotten the serum. But there was an age in the eyes that peered at Morgan.

He looked right.

Tony’s heart squeezed painfully. He knew that Steve had always dreamed of the whole family life. The “white picket fence” cliché.

Tony genuinely wished he would get to live it one day.

Tony and Steve still had a strained relationship, but it was getting easier to navigate.

Maybe it wouldn’t be impossible for them to be friends again in the future.

“It suits you,” Steve said, “Fatherhood.”

“I always thought I’d be so bad at it,” Tony said, gazing at the miracle in his arms.

“I think you’re doing great. I’m happy for you, Tony.”

Tony smiled as Morgan stirred.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

 

~~~

As Morgan began to crawl and toddle, life became a hectic game of “No, Morgan, don’t touch that.”

One time, she pointed to a framed picture of Tony and Peter by the kitchen sink.

Tony had blinked at it, a sad smile painting his face.

“That’s Peter, Mo,” Tony had said, pulling Morgan into his lap. He kissed the top of her head, and held her close.

“He would have loved you.”

 

 

 

~~~

“Tell me about Peter!” Morgan squealed, snuggling into her comforter.

Tony smiled. He often told Morgan stories about Peter in order to lull her into sleep.

“What do you want to hear, Mo?”

“The one on the spaceship!”

Tony chuckled before launching into the story. He talked about Peter sneaking onto the spaceship, which Morgan loved. She was mischievous at heart, and she gravitated towards these things. Tony talked about how brave Peter was, how he’d gone into a battle with people he didn’t know. How he’d saved people even though he had barely any personal connection to them.

Tony never told her how the story actually ended. He just said that Peter was a hero. That’s the only truth that mattered anyways.

When Tony was getting ready to turn out the lights, Morgan asked him a question she hadn’t asked before.

“What happened to Peter, daddy?”

Tony froze. His breathing automatically sped up, and he forced himself to calm down.

_I’m sorry_

“Do you remember how I told you about all the people that disappeared before you were born?”

Morgan nodded.

“He was one of them, Mo.”

“So he’s not coming back?”

Tony’s heart fell.

“I don’t think so, honey.”

“Couldn’t you bring him back?”

Morgan stared at him in genuine curiosity. Like she truly believed her dad could do anything. Tony felt heavy.

“No, baby. I can’t.”

_I can’t even try._

~~~

It’s a couple months later when Steve, Natasha, and that Scott guy come to him.

Talking about _messing with time_.

To get the stones.

A “time heist”.

They were asking Tony to…to get involved.

To jump into the rabbit hole.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do this.

Just the idea brought him close to the edge of where had been. Filled with paranoia and need and anxiety.

He had his life. One he was finally happy with.

It hurt to turn them down. He hadn’t done that before. But holding Morgan as they walked away, he knew.

He couldn’t give up what he had.

 

 

 

Tony was washing the dishes.

He knew the picture was staring at him. He knew Peter’s goofy smile was waiting for him to take notice.

_Time travel, Mr. Stark! That’s so cool!_

He refused to look.

_When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you._

Tony set the dish down. Guilt surged heavily in his throat.

He gave in, picking up the damn picture.

_God, just a kid._

Could he do this?

He didn’t have to commit to anything.

Just…baby steps.

He doesn’t even know if he _can_.

Time travel was…wow, difficult to even comprehend.

There was no way he would be able to figure out. But maybe he could ease the guilt if he tried.

 

~~~

_Shit._

“Shit!” Tony exclaimed.

“Shit!” A little voice mimicked behind him.

Tony turned, barely coming down from his high of figuring out time travel before being hit with his realization that he had just taught his daughter an expletive.

A juice pop, and a “I love you 3000” later, Tony’s with Pepper.

He knows she knows that he had done something. He had to tell her.

He had to know what to do now.

He didn’t think he’d be able to do it.

But he had.

They could save everyone. They could save Peter.

But he knew the cost. He knew he’d be falling down that pit again.

He needed Pepper. He needed Morgan.

He couldn’t do it. But he couldn’t not do it.

“I figured it out by the way.” Tony burst, in the middle of her talking about composting.

“You know, just so we’re talking about the same thing—,” Pepper said, with a cocked eyebrow.

“Time travel.” He was having a hard time meeting her eyes.

“What? Wow,” she breathed, “That’s amazing, and…terrifying.”

She was being open ended. Vague. She knew what Tony was trying to ask.

“That’s right.” Tony replied. He could play at this game, too

Pepper looked back to her book.

“We got really lucky,” she said, somewhat nonchalant. Tony glances at Morgan’s room.

“Yeah, I know.” Tony said.

“…A lot of people didn’t.” Pepper continued.

Tony thought of all the parents that lost their children. All the children that lost their friends. The brothers, sisters, friends, family….all gone.

“No, I can’t help everybody.” There it was, for Pepper to refute or agree with.

“It sort of seems like you can.” She said, glancing at him over her pages.

Tony didn’t want the riddles anymore.

“Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now. And stop.” Tony’s voice threatened to crack. He couldn’t make this decision.

He couldn’t put billions’ of others’ suffering aside for his benefit. But…he could for Pepper.

“Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my life.” She was looking at him

now. No pretense. No dancing words.

Tony smiled at her.

“I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake…go to bed.”

Pepper tilted her head. “But would you be able to rest?”

_No._

The answer rang clearly in his head. And he knew.

He knew what he was going to do. He couldn’t just sit on this knowledge.

They had the chance. They had to take it.

_When you do the things that I can, but you don’t…._

He could do it. And if he didn’t…it really would be his fault.

He had to try.

 

 

~~~

“Hey! Holy cow. You will not believe what’s been going on.”

Five years. It had been five years since he’d heard that voice.

“Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty?”

All he could do was stare.

_Peter._

“I must’ve passed out, ‘cause I woke up, and you were gone.”

The teenager was talking animatedly, and Tony staggered toward him.

“But Doctor Strange was there, right? He was like ‘It’s been five years. Come on, they need us!’”

He had almost forgotten how much the kid could talk.

“And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does all the time…”

Tony was smiling, he knows he was.

“What are you doing?”

Tony pulled him into a hug.

He hoped that Peter could feel the last five years in that hug. How he wished he could’ve been at the wedding, could’ve seen Morgan as a baby.

“This is nice.”

Tony looked up at the sky. Sure, he might not have been partial to the idea of God. But Peter was back and it finally felt like his family was complete. He had to thank someone.

 

 

~~~

Tony was dying.

He was dying and it was okay.

He had done what he wanted to do. He got everyone back, and kept what he had.

So, maybe not happily ever after. But, his family was safe now.

Thanos was gone. He trusted the team to get the stones back and make sure no one could have this power again.

Pepper was here. He wished he could say sorry to her, that he had finally reached where the rabbit hole had been taking him all along.

He wished he could hold Morgan again. It hurt that he was forcing her to grow up without a father. He knew she’d be okay, though. She had Pepper. And Peter.

A peace he hadn’t felt in a long time settled over him. He didn’t have to worry about having armor around the world.

He had finally managed to keep his world safe.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave comments to let me know what y'all think!


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